Those Vorkosigan Girls
by Morwen Tindomerel
Summary: Men think they rule Barrayar but the women know better. The Vorkosigan girls, Aral's daughter by his first wife and his thirteen year old twins by Cordelia consider themselves responsible for their brother Miles.
1. Chapter 1

Miles was only too visible in the row of recruits, a sudden dip in altitude from over six foot to not quite five and spindly with it.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Livie muttered, short nose to the thick polarized glass of the groundcar's dome.

Lizzie pulled back to wipe the mist of her breath from the glass before reapplying her own slightly bent nose, "He's worked so hard for it."

"I know, why do you think I'm worried?"

Miles had driven everybody in Vorkosigan House half crazed studying and training for this moment. They'd all known that the written tests would be a breeze – there was nothing at all wrong with Mile's _brain,_ very much the contrary! – His body of course was a miserably different story. If he could just get through today without breaking anything the relay tomorrow was well within his powers. He lacked speed but he had endurance to burn.

Lizzie knew Miles would gladly kill both of them – if he could catch them! – for watching his physical test but the suspense would have killed her, and Livie too, so they'd played hooky from the Princess Kareen Female Academy and talked their way past assorted sentries to get onto the ImpAcad grounds. Happily Miles hadn't spared the unmarked ground car Ana'd lent them a first glance much less a second, and everybody else was ignoring it too.

Across the stretch of trampled grass the recruits were being divided into pairs, Miles with a typical hunk of Barrayaran meat. Lizzie tensed as a proctor crossed the field to them.

"They're calling Bothari over," Livie said nervously, "why?"

"Miles is taking off his braces," Lizzie rejoined in dismay. "Oh, I don't think that's a good idea!"

"You think he'd have learned better by now," Livie all but moaned, "dear God his legbones will be crazed as an old vase by the time he finishes the course."

Lizzie pounded her head gently against the thick glass. Oh Miles!

Livie cried, "They're off!" And Lizzie stopped pounding to watch her brother and his partner head for the first obstacle, a wall.

Miles couldn't run worth a damn but he could climb like a cat. There was nothing at all wrong with his muscles and his small hands and feet could make use of the tiniest of cracks. He got to the top well before his partner despite the latter's head start. The hulking recruit topped the wall just after Miles, jumped down and launched himself toward the next obstacle. Miles still hadn't moved – what was he waiting for? – suddenly he hurled himself into the air.

Lizzie gave a little scream and covered her eyes. "And he lands with a sickening grunch," her sister narrated, voice hot with anger and fear. "The damn fool, what was he _thinking?_ You can look now, Lizzie, he's sitting up. He's dragging himself out of the way of the next pair. Bothari's reached him…"

Lizzie took a quick glance between her fingers in time to see stretcher bearers heading for the sand pit, then curled herself into a ball moaning; "Oh God, oh God, _why?_"

"Because, sister dear, our big brother is a grade A, one of a kind _idiot!_" Livie snarled, furious with disappointment.

Cloth rustled on fine leather upholstery as the third occupant of the ground car finally stirred into action. Livie and Lizzie's own personal dragon, their counterpart to Miles' Bothari, leaned forward to touch the intercom button. "Vorkosigan House please, Beaufou."

The car purred into motion and Lizzie uncoiled herself, dabbing away a few tears of frustration and empathy. It was just so _Miles_ to work himself half to death for a chance – and then throw it all away in one impetuous moment. Whatever were they going to do with him? "We can't go home, Talie. Mama will have it all out of us in five seconds and Miles has the right to tell them in his own way."

"He's welcome to it," Livie agreed and looked questioningly at their adult companion.

Talia Ivanova was a sturdy Dendarii hillwoman with a square unexpressive face and bobbed blond hair, dressed in a short jacket cut like a uniform tunic and full calf length skirt in both in the Vorkosigan colors. She was one of the newly fashionable breed of female bodyguards for Vor ladies, and was proud of having been trained by Madame Koudelka _nee_ Droushnakovi herself. Like Miles' Bothari she had been with the twins quite literally from birth because it wasn't any safer to be a daughter of Aral Vorkosigan than it was to be his son - or his wife. Talie pursed her lips and studied her charges for a moment before leaning forward to punch the button again. "Belay that, Beaufou. Take us to Vorkleves House instead."

The armsman who opened the front door to them took one look and a shadow of guarded sympathy passed over the drilled impassivity of his countenance. Lizzie glanced sideways at Livie, oh yeah, they were that transparent. Oh well, it would save long explanations anyway.

The doorwarden handed them off to another armsman in the black and silver Vorkleves livery. The three of them followed him across the huge marble rotunda, past yet another armsman in the Vorbarra purple and gold posted at the foot of the east staircase and down a long, bright gallery lit by tall windows overlooking a little green courtyard. Vorkleves House was chock full of high Vor come for the Emperor's Birthday, all of them relatives in various degrees. There was Aunt Yelizaveta Vorbarra, Princess and Dowager Countess Vorkleves; Uncle Aubrey Count Voraldin; and a phalanx of Vorkleves/Voraldin cousins ranging from middle age to toddlerhood. Along with all their armsmen and servants they made the place hum like a beehive, very unlike the hushed halls of thinly populated Vorkosigan House.

The armsman opened the door to Ana's personal room. Most Vor ladies had one, usually called a morning room or sometimes a boudoir. A few serious minded ladies had studies. The Countess Anastasia Vorkosigan Vorkleves had a studio. It was a large room and rather thinly furnished with an easel holding a draped canvas placed under the un-curtained south facing windows; a paint stained workbench against one wall; a pair of easy chairs and a chaise lounge, all covered in Anastasia's favorite muted gray-blue, grouped around a low coffee table in front of the fireplace.

Their big sister had been sitting at the workbench grinding her own colors. She turned on her stool to look at them and promptly jumped to the same correct conclusion as the doorwarden, "Oh dear, what happened?"

Livie flopped into one of the chairs. "Miles jumped off a wall." The door shut discretely behind them as the armsman departed to quietly spread the word and Talie turned herself into part of the decor.

It said something about their brother Lizzie reflected that Ana didn't look at all surprised though she did wince, "How bad?"

"He was sitting up when we left. The idiot," Livie answered. "We assume he's going to live."

Ana leaned her head on her hand. "What are we going to do with that boy?" she asked echoing Lizzie's own thought.

"At the moment I feel like murder," Livie answered. "But I'll get over it."

"All that time, all that _effort_," Lizzie mourned, tucking her knees under her chin as she curled into the second chair.

Ana heaved a sigh and touched a button on her workbench. The door to the bedroom promptly opened and a neat capped head poked through; "My lady?"

"Coffee, Aimee, we require a restorative."

The maid's lips pursed in sympathy but no surprise. Word had spread. "Immediately, my lady," she hesitated. "Lord Miles will be all right, won't he?"

"Just bitterly disappointed," Ana answered ruefully. "Broken bones are an old, sad story."

Aimee grimaced in sympathy and disappeared.

Everybody knew Miles, Lizzie meditated. Mama and Da might have limited his contacts to family and sworn servants if they could but Gran'da wasn't standing for that and Miles himself had insisted on riding gymkhana – and winning more often than he lost too. It had been pretty grisly at times but it had paid off. Miles was known and accepted – more or less – by his peers and by the district. And well thought of by people who mattered. All Da's influence wouldn't have bought him a chance at the academy if certain senior officers hadn't known him and believed in his potential.

_And then he throws it all away in one moment of rampant idiocy. Maybe I'll help Livie murder him!_

Ana rinsed the paint dust off her hands and came to sit on the chaise facing her little sisters. "We must confer," she said. "No doubt Miles will fall into one of his depressions. Fortunately his injuries will keep him from doing anything _more_ idiotic before we decide on an alternate future."

Lizzie and Livie nodded gloomy agreement. Miles had occasional suicidal impulses but there was no need to worry about him giving way to one when he was in hospital and by the time he was released the worst should be past.

The coffee arrived on two silver trays, one with the coffee service proper, the other a selection of sandwiches and pastries, carried in and arranged on the low table by Aimee and a footman, both suitably lugubrious.

Men thought they ruled Barrayar but women ruled the family. Miles was his sisters' responsibility and it was up to the Vorkosigan daughters to decide on a career for their problematic brother. Lizzie loaded her coffee with cinnamon and cocoa powder and secured a pate sandwich and cream covered lemon tart before curling back into her chair. It was Da's fault they were spread out like this with an elder sister old enough to be the twins' mother – well not entirely his fault. He'd married young like a good Vor heir, but Ana's mother had died not long after she was born and she'd had been all grown up and married herself before Da met Mama. He certainly wasn't to blame for the solytoxin attack that had nearly killed Miles in Mama's womb and permanently crippled him. It had damaged Da's reproductive organs too and for the longest time they'd thought they would have no more children. But when it became clear that Miles was not going to be a total invalid they'd decided to have the daughters Mama had always wanted even though it had needed all the Betan expertise they could import to get them.

Lizzie and Livie had the distinction of being among the first Barrayaran childen to be gestated in uterine replicators. They weren't even the result of ordinary in-vitro fertilization. Instead Mama and Da's chromosomes had been recombined in petrie dishes to precise specifications. Da had wanted two little girls exactly like their mother. Mama on the other hand had been determined that at least one should resemble her father. They had compromised and so the twins shared Mama's lovely red hair and her gray eyes. But Lizzie had also had her strong chin and high ridged nose, the latter slightly dented by a fall in infancy, and Mama's tendency to freckle inflicted on her. Not that Livie was any better off. Her complexion was more sallow than ivory, her eyes were long and heavy lidded, and she had Da's full underlip as well as the characteristic Vorkosigan square jaw which somehow managed to look so much better on Ana. _She_ had the luck to take after _her_ mother, a notable beauty, with a perfect complexion, like thick cream, a softly curling mane of chestnut hair and the most marvelous almond shaped eyes of an elusive gray-blue. And she was still very beautiful in spite of being so old.

So here they sat, the three Vorkosigan girls, one all of thirty-nine and two just thirteen in solemn conclave over their most problematic male relative. What _were_ they going to do about Miles? They'd just come to a decision when Mama finally called to give Ana the bad news not knowing she'd been anticipated.


	2. Chapter 2

"I should have known," was all Mama had to say when the twins were ushered into the front parlor behind Ana.

"It's not like we'd have gotten anything out of school today anyway," Livie said defensively. Lizzie kicked her ankle. Never answer accusations that haven't been made.

Ana sat down on the second sofa at right angles to the one Mama and Da were sitting on. The twins took their placed next to her to present a united Vorkosigan front. "Miles is going to be bitterly disappointed," she began crisply, "and very much at a loss -"

"He might have alternate plans for himself," Da interrupted, seeing where she was heading.

Ana gave him a dry look. "Ten marks says he doesn't."

"I wouldn't take that bet if I were you, Aral," said Mama before he could react and bent an unblinking stare on Ana. "Miles is a brilliant boy, full of potential, with _many_ possibilities before him."

By which of course she meant Beta Colony Lizzie sighed to herself. Mama had been trying to get at least one of her children to choose life on her homeworld as long as any of them could remember. As if anybody in their right mind would want to move to that insane, claustrophobic prison of a planet!

"To be Vor is to embrace a life of service -" Ana was saying only to be interrupted again, this time by Mama.

"There are other forms of service!"

"I agree," Ana said promptly, making Mama blink.

"You do?"

"Absolutely," Ana leaned forward. "We – the twins and I - are thinking of a service only the heir of Vorkosigan can do. It's been a very long time since the district had a full time Count." She saw Da's wince and smiled at him. "I'm not blaming you or Gran'da the Empire needed your services more, but Miles is in a position to devote himself entirely to the needs of the district." Mama was nodding slowly and Da looked thoughtful.

"It would be valuable work and not without its excitements knowing our hillfolk," Ana continued persuasively. "Miles could enroll at the University here or in Hassadar, he'd need to take classes in law and political science and agriculture and he could practice applying what he'd learned during vacations. In three or four years Da could give him his Voice and leave the district entirely in his hands."

Da cracked an unhappy smile, no doubt imagining how he'd have taken such a proposal at Miles' age. "Not as glamorous as a military career."

"No but he'll have lots of fun chasing bandits through the hills," Livie pointed out a little wistfully. Dendarii district was not the most law abiding.

"And think of what his example could mean to the back country folk," Lizzie added eagerly. "I mean there he'll be, living proof that physical disability doesn't mean you can't be a good Barrayaran."

That told with Mama, she fingered her chin thoughtfully then looked at Da.

"I'll put it to Miles," he decided. "Maybe after he's had a little time to get used to the idea…"

Ana slid back on the sofa and the three Vorkosigan girls exchanged pleased looks. Point carried.

…..

Lizzie and Livie looked up apprehensively from the domino game laid out on the carpet between them when Mama walked into their study after one of her brisk rat-a-tat knocks. "I am not here to scold," she said sitting down in the big leather chair next to the comsole desk. "You haven't seen your grandfather since breakfast have you?"

They shook their heads. "He's been napping," Lizzie explained.

"Why?" asked Livie.

Mama sighed. "Because Miles wants to break the news to him personally, and that puts the rest of us in a very awkward position."

"You can say that again!" Livie agreed.

"Oh my!" Lizzie gnawed her lip and looked at her twin. "I _think_ we can manage."

"If he notices anything we can say we're worried about school and he'll go off on his usual rant about female education," Livie suggested.

Yes, that would work. Of course neither of them would ever so much as breathe that they agreed with Gran'da more than they disagreed on that subject, not to Mama, any more then they'd tell her they didn't mean to be engineers or scientists or any of those other masculine careers she'd been pushing at them all their lives.

Gran'da didn't come down to dinner, which normally would have worried the rest of them yet on that particular evening was a blessing straight from the ancestors. But the next morning when the twins walked into Mama's morning room dressed in their scarlet trimmed blue school uniforms there was Gran'da at the breakfast table full of talk about Miles.

"The boy must have passed the written with colors flying," he burbled happily. "He's a born strategist and tactician, just like you Aral, but with more brains." Gran'da beamed at Mama; "That's his mother in him. She smiled in return, a little weakly. "The physical is the problem. The boy's brain and spirit are sound even if his body isn't. Yesterday must have been a trial but no news is good news." He didn't see Mama and Da wince. "He'll do well on the relay though. The boy's got heart, that's from his mother as well; speed from the sire and heart from the dam."

"Are you calling me a brood mare, Piotr?" Mama asked lightly but with a worried sidelong glance at Da's face.

"I am calling you a thoroughbred, my dear," Gran'da answered with a little seated bow; "A fine roan mare sixteen or eighteen hands high."

That made her laugh quite genuinely; "Oh what a compliment!"

"A cavalryman's compliment!" Gran'da answered cheerfully.

Da looked like he was about to burst, or maybe cry. Lizzie shot a look across their grandfather at Livie they had to get him out of here before he noticed.

"I guess that makes us roan fillies," Livie said brightly; "How about a gallop around the garden before we have to leave for school, Gran'da."

_Brilliant idea_, Lizzie silently applauded her twin as she swallowed the last of her coffee and pushed back her chair.

Livie really was a genius. Mention of school got Gran'da off the subject of Miles and onto one of his favorite hobbyhorses. He stamped cheerfully along the gravel paths between the flower beds orating: "It's not that I'm against women being educated, far from it! It's what these newfangled schools teach our girls that worries me, all this science and these offworld notions. Barrayaran girls need to learn _our_ history,_ our_ culture." His face clouded with genuine worry. "Our women are the heart of Barrayar. They hold our households and estates in the cup of their hands. They teach our children what it means to be Barrayaran, to be Vor. And we men _need_ them standing beside us," he had to stop to clear his throat. "These last fifty years without your grandmamma have been - hard. And for all your mother's weird Betan notions your Da' wouldn't have survived as regent without her, and I'm not just talking about that 'shopping trip' of hers either."

Lizzie slipped her hand into his. "We know, Gran'da. We mean to be good Vor wives and mothers, remember?"

"To do the job only women can do," Livie agreed from his other side.

He snorted and cracked a smile. "Your mother will have a conniption."

"We know," the twins sighed in unison.

…

The Princess Kareen Female Academy had been founded in memory of the Emperor's mother after Vordarian's Pretendership. It occupied an old fashioned, tile fronted building facing a brick paved alley off the main avenues of the old Vor quarter. The students were mostly Vor too, or the daughters of high ranking prole officers, and their whispers and sidelong glances made it clear they'd heard all about Miles though few of them dared say anything about it to his sisters. Cordelia Koudelka – called Delia – was one of the exceptions; she settled herself into the desk next to Livie and leaned into the aisle to murmur with genuine concern, "Miles wasn't badly hurt was he?"

"Shattered both legs," Livie whispered back. "Again, but the ImpMil doctors have pieced them back together."

"Again," Lizzie added resignedly.

Delia fiddled with her light pen. "What's he going to do?"

"We've got some ideas," Livie began but then Miss Vorgulder walked in and they had to fall silent.

Usually Lizzie enjoyed school, but not so much today. She was worried about Miles and about Gran'da too. He'd been so happy and excited. He was going to take Miles failure hard and probably say all the wrong things just when Miles was at his most touchy. Gran'da and Miles were like sulfer and saltpeter – an explosive mixture. Miles was determined to prove himself to Gran'da, and Gran'da needed to make up for rejecting Miles as a baby. And the one couldn't see he had nothing to prove or the other that he _had_ made it up a thousand times over. Oh dear, men were _so_ complicated. And so irrational!

The science classes that Gran'da disapproved of were offered in the morning – when brains were fresh and sharp. The twins were taking physics and mathematics to make Mama happy. Followed by human genetics and ecological science which were much more relevant to mutation haunted partially terraformed Barrayar; and psychology and political science. The more pleasant subjects were saved for the afternoon; language and literature in all four Barrayaran tongues, and history; Barrayaran; Komarran and of course Terran.

The school day passed at a crawl. Lizzie was desperate for it to end so she could get home to see how Gran'da and Miles were doing, and Livie's distracted face showed she felt just the same. The teachers had clearly heard about Miles too and considerately did not call on the twins in any of their classes. After a small eternity they were finally free to pile back into the armored staff car that would take them home. The school was only a few blocks away from Vorkosigan House but Uncle Simon refused to let them walk it. Mama was waiting for them in the entrance hall with the latest intelligence.

"Miles' broke the news as soon as he came home this morning," she said, working hands betraying her disturbed mental state. We haven't seen Piotr since. When I went up Esterhazy claimed he was napping, and he wouldn't see Da either."

"Do you want us to try?" Livie asked.

"Please," Mama said vehemently. "If he'll let anybody in it'll be the two of you."

Lizzie and Livie had braced themselves for anger or black depression instead they found their grandfather sitting in the bay window playing strat-o against himself. He beamed them a smile and for a horrible moment Lizzie feared his mind had given way under the shock. Fortunately his first words erased that possibility but made his good humor even more inexplicable – and worrying.

"From looks on your poor little faces you've heard about Miles."

Lizzie exchanged a glance with her twin. "Yes, Gran'da," Livie said cautiously.

He turned in his chair and held out his arms for a big hug. "It'll be all right," he said comfortingly as they nestled against him. "The boy's got too much promise to waste. The Imperial Academy isn't the only military school on Barrayar, nothing wrong with our own training college in Hassadar. Give the boy credit he never makes the same mistake twice, he'll pass that physical all right."

The twins pulled back to give each other astonished looks. "We never even thought of that," Livie admitted.

"It makes good sense," said Lizzie, "which pretty much guarantees Miles won't do it!"

Gran'da heaved a sigh. "True. The boy was full of hurt pride and disappointment this morning and teetering on the edge of a black mood. He's got a lot of me in him poor lad! Better give him a few days to recover before bringing it up."


	3. Chapter 3

"Livie? Wake up, love." Mama's soft voice roused Livie from sleep, she turned over blinking. The room was lit by the night lamps from the hall filtering through the open door. Mama moved to the other side of the bed to wake Lizzie.

"What is it?" Livie's twin mumbled sleepily. "Something wrong?" suddenly she jolted upright. "Is it Miles?" Livie's heart all but stopped. Miles had attempted suicide before, what if he'd finally succeeded?

"No, love, it's your grandfather." Mama crawled onto the bed to cuddle them both, one on each side. "He died in his sleep an hour or so ago."

It wouldn't sink in. It couldn't be true. "But he was fine this morning," Livie protested, "And at dinner too!"

"He'd had an idea to help Miles," Lizzie added in a voice as weak and shaky as Livie felt. "That's why he was so cheerful. He can't be dead!"

"He's been hanging by a thread for months now, heart." Mama answered, "It could have snapped any time." Her voice shook a little. "I didn't expect it to be tonight either."

Livie felt cold, she felt hollow. Gran'da would never have a chance to tell Miles his idea now. He'd never be able to finally prove his love and his pride to his only grandson. She felt tears sliding down her face but she didn't feel like crying. She didn't feel like anything. There was a similar glassy silence from Lizzie on Mama's other side. Mama was doing all the talking; Betan psych jargon about grief processes and closure none of which had anything to do with Gran'da or real life – and death – on Barrayar.

The door opened all the way to show their sister Ana silhouetted against the dull illumination of the hall, the lamps bringing out the reddish highlights of her hair. "Anastasia?" Mama got off the bed and went to meet her. "I'm so sorry. They should have let you sleep -"

"No they shouldn't have," Ana retorted quietly. "You know our customs, Cordelia. It is the duty of the women of a family to tend its dead."

Livie's condition of stunned shock suffered a jolt. Oh. Oh dear. She turned her head to share a terrified look with her twin. Oh she – they - didn't want to….

"No!" Mama said, "Absolutely not. The last thing the children need is -"

Ana didn't let her finish. "This is Barrayar, Cordelia. We don't medicalize biological realities like birth and death here. And my sisters are not children. Back in the Time of Isolation you'd be negotiating for their marriages – and they'd be implanted and sexually active on your Beta Colony. If they can deal with sex they can deal with death. It is their right as well as their duty."

Oh. The twins shared another look, not quite so panicked. Yes. This was all part of being a good Vor, a good Barrayaran woman. Gran'da would _want _this. They climbed off the bed.

…..

Livie and Lizzie approached the bed cautiously. Armsman Esterhazy, Gran'da's batman, stood at its head, red eyed but tearless now. The covers had been stripped away and Gran'da lay on his back in his long, old fashioned night shirt. He looked - his body looked - _empty._

"He's not there," Lizzie said hushed voice strange in the silent room. "He's gone."

"Gone to join the souls of the ancestors," Ana said softly behind them, "To join Grandmamma, Uncle Mikhail and Aunt Irina."

"He told us this morning – yesterday morning – how much he'd missed Grandmamma." Livie heard her own voice, small and hushed like Lizzie's, say.

"That wound is healed now, at long last," said Ana.

She and Esterhazy removed the nightshirt and the twins looked away, shocked and embarrassed. "It's all right," Ana said softly, almost hypnotically. We are his blood and bone. We are as much his flesh as this empty shell. There is nothing indecent or immodest about our tending to it."

Another red eyed armsman entered the room with a basin of water steaming gently in his hands and towels draped over both arms. Lizzie was given the job of washing Gran'da's face and combing his hair. Livie was assigned to his hands and feet, both were secretly and a little shamefacedly relieved when Ana took his trunk for herself. They dried his body and with the help of the armsmen dressed it in his glittering house uniform, the comitial robes of scarlet and silver, and the heavy gold chain of the generalissimo of all Barrayar, the first non-emperor to hold that honor in nearly three hundred years.

It wasn't awful, it wasn't even upsetting. It was _right_. And in a weird way comforting, Livie was very glad she and her twin had agreed to do their duty. She didn't like to think how they'd be feeling right now if they'd played the coward.

Ana clipped five locks of hair from Gran'da's short cropped head putting each into its own tiny envelope then nodded to Esterhazy. He opened the door and Da came in with Miles and Mama. She looked sharply at the twins and they gave her reassuring smiles: _It's okay, Mama. It's fine._

Da's face was set but his eyes were devastated with a frighteningly lost and abandoned expression in their depths. Miles looked scared - and guilty? Why guilty? Each of them kissed Gran'da good-bye in turn. Then Ana sat down to watch out the remainder of the night at his side and the rest of them went back to bed if not to sleep.

…..

Livie sat on the mourner's throne with the long black train of her court mourning curled around her feet like a cat's tail around its toes. Gran'da lay in in his open coffin of highly polished Dendarii maple wood on a bier to her left banked around with hothouse flowers. An endless snake of somber black clad people passed through Vorhartung Castle's great hall their feet shuffling on the marble floor, their hushed voices echoing through the elaborate carving of the hammer-beamed ceiling. Each man, woman and the occasional child in that line bowed first to Livie on her throne murmured a traditional blessing then shuffled on to gaze solemnly upon Gran'da's profile for a few seconds before making for the exit.

A woman, or rather girl not much older than Livie herself, stepped out of line to approach the throne extending a little plastic tab containing two locks of hair, one short the other very long.

"An offering for the General," she muttered, eyes shyly avoiding Livie's, "From my Gran'da and my Mama."

"Thank you," Livie murmured accepting it and the girl moved away, duty done.

That happened a lot. Very few of Gran'da's veterans were still alive or the refugees he'd sheltered or the women whose honor he'd avenged. But their children and grandchildren had not forgotten. These bits of hair were a much more sincere, deeply felt tribute than the eulogies being mouthed at this moment in the Council Chamber. Livie blinked back tears. Barrayar remembered what Gran'da had done for her. Barrayar grieved right along with his family.

Three days of sitting watch in turn with her sisters had given Livie a sneaking sympathy for the government's desire to see Gran'da buried in the Imperial cemetery where he'd be easily available for public and private offerings. Clearly they had a point there but Gran'da had wanted to be buried next to his wife and two murdered children at Vorkosigan Surleau and Da was quite properly determined to carry out his wishes. Eventually a compromise had been worked out; Gran'da would be temporarily buried in Vorbarra Sultana then transferred to his permanent resting place when the family went down to Vorkosigan Surleau this summer and a shrine built over his former grave in the city.

The three long days of ceremonies were almost over. Livie was sitting her last watch in the great hall. This afternoon Gran'da would be carried to his temporary grave and the final offerings made.

The procession formed in the castle courtyard after a long and ceremonious lunch in the banquet hall – state funerals involved a really amazing amount of eating and drinking – Gran'da's coffin was screwed closed and covered with the imperial pall, usually used only for Emperors, then hoisted atop an ancient gun-carriage from the Time of Isolation and banked about with still more flowers. The Vorkosigan armsmen lined up on either side as honor guard armed with the traditional two swords. Livie climbed into the Imperial state coach, on loan from Gregor another special honor, settling herself next to Lizzie facing Mama and Anastasia as footmen packed their trains in after them. Miles had insisted on walking alongside Da like all the other Counts' heirs which wouldn't do his still healing legs any good at all.

It was quite a parade; the Emperor's own military band led off playing a slow march followed by the Imperial General Staff on foot followed by the few surviving veterans of the First Cetagandan War, those past walking in float chairs.

The gun-carriage was drawn not by horses but by long files of infantrymen in traditional red and blues. Da and Miles walked directly behind it, on either side of the Emperor himself, followed by the other counts and their heirs, then the Vor vassals from the district wearing their two swords and brown and silver cloaks over their mourning and finally assorted other male relatives and mourners with a troop of the Emperor's own horse guard on their heels. Next came the Imperial state coach carrying the Vorkosigan ladies, followed by carriages full of other Vor females, yet another troop of horse and finally an immensely long tail humble folk from the district and elsewhere, come to honor the liberator of Barrayar. If Livie had ever harbored any doubts about her Gran'da's historical importance this would have settled them.

The parade wound its way through the cobbled streets of the old city from Vorhartung castle to the Star Bridge and then along the straighter avenues of the new city past the Imperial residence to the cemetery. The crowds were left outside the gates as the high ranking mourners gathered around a gaping hole in the green sward for the final ceremonies.

The offerings went on for some time. The emperor started them by solemnly burning a lock of his own hair with juniper shavings in the tall gilded brazier at the foot of the grave followed by the Guardian of the Circle who offered on behalf of the Council of Counts; Lord Vorchenko offered for the vassals and Esterhazy for the armsmen. Then it was the family's turn; Ana's husband Count Rene, who was Gran'da's nephew once removed as well as his son in law offered on behalf of the Vorkleves cousins; Uncle Voraldin offered on behalf of his daughter, another grandniece, and her children; and cousin Ivan, jaw clenched with tension, burned a lock of his own hair and his mother's for the Vorpatrils. Da made the final offering; hair from his own head and Mama's and Miles' as well as Lizzie and Livie's. Only then was it finally over. As their ground car left the cemetery via a side gate Livie could see the crowd of proles at the main entrance forming itself into a line to make their own offerings.

Miles hadn't been anywhere near as impressed by ceremonies as his sisters – or maybe he was just grumpy because his legs were hurting; "Three boring days of panoply and pantomime," he whined, "and for what?"

Livie restrained a desire to kick her brother, though her long full skirts and numerous petticoats would probably have provided enough padding to prevent serious damage to his bones.

"Told you, you should have ridden," Lizzie said.

"Take another painkiller and stop whining," Livie added.

"I'm not whining," he protested, though it sure sounded like it to his sisters. "But what good does all this waste of time and energy do anybody?"

"Stop talking like a Betan," Lizzie snapped.

"Betans also show respect for the dead, if less elaborately," Mama said dryly.

"Indeed they do," Da cracked a sort of smile. "Funerals are for the living son, not the dead. Your grandfather -" his voice broke just a little "- touched a lot of lives, he changed Barrayar and Barrayar wants – needs- to bid him farewell."


	4. Chapter 4

Miles was going to Beta Colony, and he was taking Elena with him, God and ancestors only knew why.

"Do _you_ want to go?" he demanded irritably pushing his ice cold breakfast eggs around his plate.

"No!" Livie reassured him hastily. "We're just curious; why Elena?"

"Because she wants to see other planets," he answered promptly and maybe a little too glibly. "She told me so the other day." His sisters gave him the Look in stereo. It worked. "And…well I kind of owe her," he continued reluctantly. "I did something to upset her."

"Like feeling her up in the library?" Lizzie asked bluntly.

Miles flushed bright red. "NO! That wasn't what happened…" he took a deep breath to stop his hyperventilation. "I was trying to find some information for her on Da's secured comsole. We thought it was the guard so we pretended to be necking only it was Da and Koudelka, and Bothari."

Livie pictured the scene and giggled. So did Lizzie. Miles glared at them both. "It is not funny. I got her in trouble with her Da. _I'm_ in trouble with Bothari!"

"So he's finally tumbled to the fact you lust after his daughter?" Livie asked.

"About time," Lizzie commented.

Miles' face shaded to purple and he slammed down his fork. "I do _not_ 'lust' after her. I want her to be my wife!"

"At _seventeen_?" Livie said in incredulous chorus with her twin.

"Of course not! I know we have to wait -"

"We," Lizzie interrupted. "You mean you've asked her -?"

"And she's said yes?" Livie finished.

"No, not yet. We're too young. She'd say we were too young. I need to wait…" he was practically stuttering.

"Miles," Lizzie said carefully as he ran down. "Miles, I really don't think Elena's interested in you that way."

Miles complexion faded to pinkish then a sickly yellow. "She cares about you," Livie put in hastily. "Cares a lot, but the way we do, like you're her brother."

"You grew up together," Lizzie pointed out. "Miles, has it occurred to you that you might be fixated on Elena because she's the only girl you know who isn't your sister or niece?"

"Propinquity," Livie supplied.

"Right."

Miles got up without another word, slamming the heavy maple-wood door to the breakfast nook resoundingly behind him.

The twins looked at each other. "Denial," Said Lizzie.

"And how," Livie agreed.

…

Gran'da's will had contained a few surprises; Miles had been left all the lands Gran'da held personally rather than as count. Granted most of them were around Vorkosigan Vashnoi and glowed in the dark but it was a clear statement of acceptance and endorsement of Miles' standing as heir. Gran'da had left Princess and Countess Olivia's emeralds to Mama, another message of acceptance and affection that moved her to tears. And Livie and Lizze had received a big surprise of their own.

Gran'da had told the twins years ago he'd give them Aunt Irina's jewels - a pearl set and a parure of jeweled flowers - when they were old enough to wear them. And if they'd ever thought about it they'd have guessed he'd leave them some of his personal effects like the mechanical watch he'd carried during the resistance and his set of chemical propellant guns and Armsman Esterhazy. And of course dowries; three quarters of a million marks apiece the going price for a Count's daughter. Only it turned out there was more to it than that.

"Land?" Livie said blankly.

"South Continent?" Lizzie said, also blankly.

Tsipis, the Vorkosigan's man of business, perched on the edge of one of the library's deep reading chairs, nodded. "The General invested the marks he'd put aside for his granddaughters in Imperial bonds and used the interest to buy un-terraformed land on South Continent," He explained, speaking half to the twins curled up together on the sofa and half to Mama and Da in chairs on either side of the comconsole, "currently comprising over a million hectares apiece."

Mama blinked. Da choked as if a breath had gone down backward. The twins looked incredulously at each other. "That's a lot of land!" said Lizzie.

"That's a _district_," said Livie.

"Two districts!" said Lizzie.

Tsipis cleared his throat. "In fact your ladyships are currently the largest landowners on the continent, after the Emperor of course."

The huge, leather and wood scented library at Vorkosigan House was completely silent for several long seconds as all four Vorkosigans tried to assimilate this. For centuries the possession of land had meant both wealth and power on Barrayar, Livie reflected. There were other avenues to both now but land remained the most traditional and respected investment. No wonder it had appealed to their old fashioned Grandfather.

"What do we do with it?" she asked at last.

"Terraform it," Lizzie guessed.

"I would advise a mineral survey first of all," Tsipis answered. "If commercially exploitable resources are discovered your ladyships will be able to fund the terraforming entirely yourselves. The alternative would be forming a joint stock company –"

"Which would mean sharing ownership of our land, right?" Livie interrupted.

"Quite so, milady."

"We don't want to do that," Lizzie said firmly.

"Absolutely not," Livie agreed.

"Why not?" Mama asked frowning puzzled. Tsipis, her husband and her daughters all stared at her. "What?!"

Da cracked a rueful smile. "It's a Vor thing, Cordelia."

Mama snorted, "Barrayarans!"

Livie exchanged the usual grimace with her twin – honestly, Mama was so _Betan!_ before turning back to Tsipis; "What will we need to start terraforming?"

"How much will it cost?" Lizzie added.

"And what will this mineral survey cost us?" Livie continued.

"What is this land of ours like anyway?" Lizzie demanded. "Is it flat or hilly?"

"Are there rivers running through it?" asked Livie.

"Does it have a coastline?" asked Lizzie.

"I have the official survey maps right here -" Tsipis began fishing a holocube out of his pocket.

This time it was Mama who interrupted him. "Perhaps the girls should go down to South Continent and see this property of theirs in person."

Da's lips parted as if to protest then closed on second thoughts. "That is a very good idea, Dear Captain," he said, "Tsipis, could I persuade you and Madame Tsipis to lend us your services as financial advisor and duenna?"

"We would be delighted of course, milord," Tsipis answered promptly, but he looked a little surprised.

Livie was _very_ surprised, and suddenly and seriously suspicious. Lizzie was too, she could tell.

…..

"So they're shipping you off somewhere too," Miles mused perched on a footstool in the twin's green study with a mug of tea in one hand and a fruit pastry from the tea table in the other. His appetite had come back, Livie noted, excellent. "I'd call that suspicious."

"So would we," Livie agreed licking chocolate cream off her fingers. Lizzie nodded emphatic agreement her mouth full of cherry chocolate cake.

"Something's going on in the government," Miles continued. "Da clearly wants us all out of the line of fire."

"Another conspiracy in council," Livie snorted, "since when do we run and hide from those?"

Lizzie swallowed. "We'd never come to Vorbarr Sultana at all if we did!"

Miles finished off his pastry and drained his mug. "I gather somebody's trying to turn Gregor against Da. That changes the game."

Livie stared at her brother aghast. "Gregor couldn't be so stupid!"

"Sure he could," Lizzie said gloomily, "It's _Gregor_."

"Soft as butter," Livie had to agree. "And just as moldable."

"We should talk to him," Lizzie said in a tone that boded no good for their Imperial cousin.

"Maybe that's what Da's trying to avoid," Miles suggested dryly. Both sisters glared at him in outrage. "What? You two are about as diplomatic as a plasma grenade!"

"Since when do we have to be diplomatic with _Gregor_?" Lizzie demanded.

"Plain talk is what he needs if he's sunk to suspecting Da!" Livie added.

"Or some of Mama's Betan therapy," her twin agreed.

"Right, he'd have to be crazy to think Da wants the empire after all these years!"

Miles made calming motions with both hands waving his empty mug in the air. "Hey, cool down. Remember we don't know what's going on – and it doesn't look like anybody's going to tell us."

"We're not babies," Livie grumbled.

"You two are," Miles retorted continuing before the twins could gather breath to yell at him; "As for me, I'm a useless Vor scion who falls off walls, disappoints sick old men to death and makes girls -" he didn't get any farther.

"Miles Vorkosigan, you idiot!" Lizzie yelled.

"Gran'da wasn't disappointed, he'd thought of a way for you to get in the military after all." Livie added.

Miles' expression hardened, "An imperial order? Forget it!"

"Did Da suggest that?" Lizzie asked.

"Gran'da's idea was for you to apply to the Hassadar military college," said Livie.

"Huh?" Miles said blankly.

"He said – and I quote – 'the boy never makes the same mistake twice. He'll pass that physical all right,'" said Lizzie.

"_And_ he said you had too much promise to waste," Livie continued. "_He_ thought you'd be a good officer."

"He did?" Miles asked in a small voice, like he couldn't quite believe it.

"He also said you had a lot of him in you meaning you wouldn't take such a sensible suggestion," added Lizzie.

"At least not right away, which is why he didn't mention it that last evening," Livie finished.

Miles looked like he might be about to cry. "Really, you're not making this up?"

Livie threw a seat cushion at him hard. "That suggestion is beneath contempt!"

"We're _Vorkosigans_, we don't lie!" Lizzie shouted pitching her own cushion after her sister's.

Miles fended them off, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Miles you idiot," Livie said more calmly. "Gran'da thought the sun shone out of your backside!"

"He was _hugely_ proud of you," Lizzie continued.

"He was disappointed _for_ you, Miles. Not _in_ you," Livie finished.

Miles looked away from them, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed his emotions. "I mean to make him proud," he said finally, softly. "Him and Da, I don't know how yet – but I'll do it, on my word as a Vorkosigan."


End file.
